


A Blue Sky

by pene



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Incomprehensible propositions and godfather delusions and immaculate wedding suits. And rings. Rings.</p><p>Post 6.08 A Wedding</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to Corinna.

Blaine fell asleep, breathing softly against Kurt’s bare shoulder. His familiar body, sated and sleepy, was curled into Kurt’s. Kurt lay awake in the dark. He wanted to preserve this, just this, forever.

Their clothes were laid out neatly for tomorrow’s wedding. Kurt did consider putting out his sky blue socks, and not solely to try and protect this precious, precious thing. He also wanted to do as much as possible to ensure Santana and Brittany’s happiness. But sky blue was indefensible with black pants. He settled on letting Brittany handle superstitions for her own wedding.

**

Now he wishes he’d worn them.

“I don’t know. I don’t know but-”

“But- but what?-“ Kurt stammers, staring back at Blaine.

Blaine manages to draw breath. “Principal Sylvester, Brittany, Santana,” he says, “Could Kurt and I have a moment to ourselves?” His gaze doesn’t waver from Kurt’s. He’s still gripping both of Kurt’s hands in his.

Sue scoffs an impatient “huh” as though Blaine’s being unreasonable, when the three of them have just tossed a firebomb at Kurt and Blaine, with their incomprehensible propositions and godfather delusions and immaculate wedding suits. And rings. Rings.

But Blaine doesn’t turn his head toward her. “If you don’t mind,” he adds politely.

He’s the same dreamy boy Kurt’s been in love with since he was seventeen, but in this moment he seems so much more self-possessed, so certain, that Kurt’s not even sure he knows him anymore. It’s frightening and encouraging at once. Encouraging that there’s something new to uncover after so many years knowing and loving someone. But it’s awful to think that Kurt failed Blaine deeply enough that months apart made Blaine so much stronger. 

“You can have five minutes,” says Sue. She’s already on her way out.

“If we come back and find you fornicating in our dressing room,” says Santana, “all deals are off.” She stalks away in a whirl of silk robe and bridal illusion, taking Brittany with her.

Kurt doesn’t see the door close behind them. He is aware of having the room to themselves; aware of the delicate light and the quiet; aware of the white walls and the bridles and stirrups around them. He doesn’t see any of it though. He’s watching Blaine.

He hasn’t considered that this is anything but forever. You don’t reconcile with your fiancé unless you actually deep-down-to-the-bones mean it. They’ve only talked about the future in the vaguest way, though, in amongst all the other conversations they have to have. They’ve murmured tomorrow’s words into one another’s flushed skin and made plans for next week. But marriage. Marriage is different from just knowing. And this is fast, probably too fast. Blaine never had a chance to finish planning their own wedding. Kurt never planned a wedding with him.

Kurt’s stomach twists. He says in one breath, “Look, Blaine. We don’t have to do this. You know that, right? We can move things forward at our own pace. There’s no need to rush into anything. It’s fine.”

He slows down. He fixes his eyes on Blaine’s.

“I love you.” It’s already blissfully easy to say, but this time his eyes sting. “I love you, so very much, and I don’t want our wedding to be something we’ve been pressured into by some megalomaniac and our probably well-meaning friends. We can wait. We have time.”

It’s all true. And for a sickening instant he thinks Blaine is simply going to agree. He’d understand that; he’d even advise it. The trouble is, now that this ridiculous possibility has been laid out in front of them, going home without being able to call Blaine his husband would seem something of an anticlimax.

Still, however much the set-up feels like it’s straight out of a classic romantic comedy, you don’t marry the love of your life just for a dramatic entrance.

Blaine doesn’t move. Everything about him is steady and beautiful and Kurt’s as he asks, “Do you want to marry me?”

Kurt spent months inuring himself to the idea of a future without Blaine in it. He reached the point where he could even imagine himself with someone else - an older man, handsome and wealthy and devoted, sharing an Upper West Side apartment. One of those luxury ones with a doorman.

No fantasy could ever live up to Blaine.

When he thinks of his future, he thinks of Blaine, years from now, sweetly signing autographs for his legion of fans while Kurt watches on, amused and proud. He thinks of Blaine cheering from the wings, with soft eyes and a bright smile, while Kurt takes a curtain call, or sitting cross-legged on the floor to build towers of blocks with their child. He thinks of Blaine being there almost every time Kurt turns out the light, the person he reaches out for in the dark. 

“Yes,” he says. And he means Of course and always. He means, I thought I was supposed to propose this time and god, I love you and oh shit, what are we doing and a hundred times, yes.

Blaine smiles. He knows everything Kurt’s ‘yes’ means. Kurt would love to kiss him now and never stop ever again. But they have a whole lifetime for kissing. Right now they need suits. And some hairspray.

Blaine’s straightening Kurt’s bow-tie with his capable fingers, when the girls return. Brittany claps her hands in the doorway.

“I knew you boys couldn’t resist,” says Santana, beaming. “Was it the fancy suits or the McKinley-style dramatics that pushed you over the line?”

Brittany bounces as she comes in. “They’re doing it because they’re in love,” she says. “And now we need to pick a song. For the four of us to sing together.”

Kurt looks at Blaine. During the time they were broken up, this last time, Blaine sent Kurt a text. “I hate you for ruining all of the songs.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that, nothing that would help either of them. Kurt wrote, “I’m sorry,” and pressed send.

He ached for Blaine. He knew at the time that Blaine had stopped going to his pop performance class. He’d heard that Blaine advised the professor he would never sing a love song again, which severely limited his options. 

It was true for Kurt too. So many songs were simply too painful to think about. Not because he was angry with Blaine, how could he be? But because they said, over and over, _all of me, there’s only you in my life, you’re my everything, I am everything I am because you loved me, how can I breathe without you_. However Kurt felt about the possibility of love, however grateful he was to have had Blaine’s heart, to have had that love, he could no longer trust the story those songs were telling. He still doesn’t trust that story. Fortunately, it’s not the only love story. 

He smiles at Blaine. They’ve sung together recently. It was a love song, even. They agreed they sounded even better than ever.

“Okay, Britt,” Kurt says. “What have you got for us?”

“Though we might need to sing more than one song,” Blaine adds. “I have a few ideas.”

**

There’s music coming from the barn. Everything inside is beautifully in place - Kurt helped with that. It’s full of light and people and humming conversation. Standing nearby, Santana says to Kurt, “You can escort my bride. She’s the only thing prettier than you are.” Kurt narrows his eyes, but the effect of Santana and Blaine’s dark loveliness side by side is not lost on him.

He reaches a hand to Blaine’s, and pulls him away from the girls, just for a moment. It feels like they haven’t taken their eyes or hands off one another in days and yet he still wants more connection.

He stands, looking, taking Blaine in. “Are you sure about this?” he says, low, then wishes he hadn’t. They’re about to get married. This isn’t the time to voice any doubt.

But Blaine moves closer to him, his whole face alight and eager under the clear sky. “I’m sure,” he says. He tangles their fingers together. “When we were in the dressing room, with all the confusion of Britt asking us to get married, and the suits, and weird cut-out heads, and Sue doing-” He waves his free hand in the air vaguely.

“Yes?” prompts Kurt.

“I said to you, ‘I don’t know… but-’”

“Mm-hmm,” says Kurt.

“I never finished.” Blaine pauses to blink back sudden tears. Kurt waits for a moment, clutching his fingers. “I was going to say, ‘I don’t know, but I love you- and I don’t know, but the thing is, we already know this is going to last forever. Maybe we should tell everyone else.’”

Kurt feels his spine settle. He nods at Blaine, not bothering to wipe away the tears in his own eyes. When he speaks, his voice is steady. “I love you. And I know you, deep, deep down. I will never regret this.” It’s the kind of reality that will stretch out forever, even though there’ll be moments where it’s not even a tiny bit true. 

“Not in a million lifetimes,” says Blaine and his heart is in his eyes.

**

Kurt’s at the barn door when the music starts. Everything is perfect; everything is too much. He can’t move. Then Brittany squeezes his hand. Up near the front of the barn Mercedes starts to sing, her voice as strong and lovely as ever. Rachel is waiting. His dad is standing proud as punch ready to officiate. And Blaine is right behind him, here beside him, forever.

He steps forward.


End file.
